


If at First

by djsoliloquy



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Bad Sex, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 17:08:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/915835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/djsoliloquy/pseuds/djsoliloquy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So are you clean or am I gonna get down there and find out you're full of shit?"</p><p>First time sex starts out awkward—and gets much, much worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If at First

**Author's Note:**

> For a kinkmeme prompt itself inspired by the Bad Sex Fic Fest on LJ. Thanks Tanya for betas and brainstorming.

In the privacy of his room Erwin doesn’t bother to suppress a yawn. After bathing he feels almost clean for the first time in a week, and indulges in a few extra moments of combing his hair and reaffixing his uniform. Spare one close call to him personally the last mission went better than expected. Otherwise, life continues as usual. The squads have all settled in for the night. Erwin expects Zoë by sometime later with her new findings. In the meantime he’s grateful for time to sit and catch up on reports.   
  
He’s flipping through maps, beginning to feel a touch of drowsiness, when Levi rushes into the room.  
  
Erwin has an open door policy with his captains, but for Levi to burst in without knocking is notable. The door shuts behind him and he strides in, looking a little wild, and Erwin has already reached for his cloak when Levi stops in front of the desk, grim, and says, “I think we should fuck.”  
  
For a moment Erwin can’t think of anything to say.  
  
He expects he will be irritated with himself in several hours because what he ends up saying is, “Right now?”  
  
Levi blinks. He had been expecting a no, Erwin thinks. “If you have time to fool around,” he answers. “I’m horny. You just bathed. I think it’s a good plan.”  
  
The phrasing sounds deliberate. Both times— _I think_. A proposition, in the purest sense. Even more significant, Erwin considers, is the fact that Levi is still waiting for his response. The question is in the silence.   
  
At some point Erwin started gripping the arms of his chair. He notes the swell of excitement in his chest. He’s never particularly wanted to fool around with Levi, and not because of protocol regarding subordinates and conduct unbecoming. He respects Levi far too much for  _fooling around._    
  
Which is not to say he doesn’t want _Levi_. That he hasn’t for some time.   
  
But the plan, the  _I think_ , is Erwin’s out. It’s an understanding borne of their stations and makes for an easy transition to private matters: if Erwin doesn’t agree with the plan they won’t do it. The thing is, right now there isn’t a single warning signal in Erwin’s head strong enough to divert him from the reality of Levi standing in his office saying  _we should fuck_ —not the fact that there was surely something to spark Levi’s advance and Erwin would like to know what, or that despite how much he has wanted this he never wanted it to feel rushed and there are reasons this isn’t allowed, and they haven’t even touched on expectations or roles or boundaries and there has to be a better way to go about it.   
  
But Levi is also bent with his hands on the desk, up on his toes like he has half a mind to crawl over it to get to Erwin and pin him back against his chair.  
  
Erwin usually has a good mind for knowing when a plan is good or not.  
  
Usually.  
  
As it is, he has just enough self-control not to let out a begging yes. “Why?” he says.  
  
Levi stares at him like he doesn’t comprehend the word.  
  
Then, sighing, he leans his weight back on one leg and sets his hands on his hips. “Yeah,” he says instead of answering. “There’s probably a wall of anti-fraternization protocol in the way.”  
  
Erwin gently sorts his papers and sets them on the corner of his desk. “But?”  
  
“And,” Levi corrects, “I wanted to see what was on the other side.”  
  
That could be improvised. More likely Levi came armed for seduction if push came to shove, and that is… unexpectedly arousing. It seems like it should come across as awkward, forced. Somehow it plucks Erwin’s willpower in just the right way.   
  
He nods—does something—and in seconds Levi is around the desk climbing onto his lap and they’re taking each other apart.   
  
Or trying to take each other apart. Levi grips his chest straps, fighting with the buckles as Erwin wraps his hands around Levi, distracted from the sheer novelty of holding him but not making it any easier. A chill lingers on Levi from the outside.

“You can drop the poetics if you want,” Erwin says in case Levi felt obliged. He clings to Levi’s coat and tries to pry it off at the same time, with predictable results.  
  
Levi snorts. “And what, start dropping pens until you get frustrated from watching me bend over?” He swears in relief when he finally gets Erwin’s chest straps undone. “Poetics worked.”  
  
“It wasn’t the poetics,” Erwin says and gives Levi’s ass a squeeze. It’s a little overwhelming to have Levi suddenly, the weight on him real and solid. Erwin’s fingers are lost. The jacket still isn’t coming off.  “Ah.” He yanks too hard and wrenches Levi lopsided. “Wait a moment, let me—”  
  
“Fuck, it’s just the—”   
  
There are only so many ways arms bend, but between the two of them they start peeling off Levi’s jacket. “Besides,” Erwin says up close, grunting as he strips the sleeves down Levi’s arms, “there tend to be unpleasant things on the other side of walls.”   
  
Levi’s hands get briefly pinned behind his back. He hums, squirming when Erwin tucks his forehead against him. “Good thing we know what we’re doing.”  
  
Erwin tries to nose against Levi’s throat. The bunch of ruffles prevents him from reaching skin, yet he isn’t frustrated. Resting in his chair and letting his feet up is nice. Holding Levi is nice. Erwin isn't hard yet, because he's well into his forties, exhausted, and he simply isn’t going to get an erection on a moment's notice no matter how enticingly Levi writhes on top of him. But Levi doesn’t feel completely hard, either. Erwin hopes the exhaustion defense is at least somewhat mutual.

Determined, he closes his eyes and buries his face against Levi’s neck to kiss him. He wants to suck hard enough to leave a mark there on the underside of Levi’s throat where only the two of them will know of it—  
  
Erwin inhales against Levi’s skin and sneezes, hard.  
  
It comes out of nowhere, his body refusing to have anything to do the sting in his nostrils. The unexpectedness makes the smell seem more astringent than it actually is, not quite the smell of soap but certainly not the smell of Levi.   
  
At least, Erwin hopes. Has he smelled Levi before? The thought is more distracting than it has any right to be.

“Levi, did you come in right from the field?”  
  
“Yeah.” Levi has gone still as well. He glances critically at the shoulder Erwin sneezed on. “Did you put on your dirty uniform again after you washed?”  
  
“No.”  
  
There is a pause where they consider each other.  
  
“No, this is a fresh uniform,” Erwin says, reassuring and about as playful as he gets. He runs his hands up Levi’s thighs, sweeping his thumbs over the tough leather across the jut of his pelvis. Levi’s gear is in better condition and much easier to unfasten. “Washed with real soap.”  
  
“You only use soap?” says Levi, but Erwin is already pulling him in for a kiss and a much-needed change of tactics.   
  
It occurs to him that kissing could be an unwanted level of intimacy if all Levi wants is a fuck, but his concern falls away when he feels Levi sigh and kiss back. The aggressively clean smell envelops Erwin, not masked by any accumulated travel-grime of sweat or dirt, and all the more noticeable when he can’t breathe through his mouth. He barely has time to turn aside and avoid sneezing into Levi’s face. “Are you serious?” Levi mutters.   
  
But Levi is hard now, pressing against Erwin’s stomach, and Erwin says, “Hush,” and holds his face to kiss him again. Levi’s tongue flicks at his bottom lip, imploring, or maybe demanding, and when they finally deepen the kiss Erwin forgets the soap smell.   
  
Their teeth clack once, an error of angles and opposing depths. That isn’t why Erwin forgets the soap smell. Teeth clacking aren’t half as distracting as the… taste.   
  
He notices it first from Levi. A flavor like metallic water and wilted herbs that may have been refreshing once but now suggests flora may be colonizing his teeth. It makes him aware of what Levi must be facing, the lurking aftertastes of Erwin’s stale beer and army rations, which aren’t appetizing when  _fresh_.  
  
They sport similar expressions when they separate. Levi’s eyes are closed. He brings his hand to his mouth, a little gesture that conveys much, but he doesn’t say anything. Erwin is grateful for the verbal restraint.   
  
He molds his arms around the thick belt of muscles around Levi’s waist, bracing to take advantage of the moment and try changing course again. “I… my desk?” he offers. Though not keeping up with Levi, he is hard enough to know he’ll be pinned down a trouser leg if they stay seated any longer.   
  
“Mm.” Levi at least sounds equally breathless. Or impatient. He adds, almost to himself, “Why did I think you ate better food?”   
  
Erwin winces and tries to get a grip under Levi’s thigh. “We could—”  
  
“Yes, the desk. Fine.”  
  
Erwin pushes his chair back, and what happens next isn’t clear to him even thinking it over later. Perhaps his ankle catches behind the chair leg, or the fabric on Levi’s thigh doesn’t offer enough grip, or Levi is small but  _dense,_ all bone and muscle mass and heavier than he seems when he’s poised over Erwin’s lap.   
  
The facts are that he picks Levi up when he stands, and a moment later drops him.  
  
It wouldn’t be the first time Levi has found himself in unexpected free-fall, but this isn’t basic training or a 3DMG malfunction, and there’s no time at all to get his legs under him either. The wind goes out of him when he hits the floor, no more than a second where both of them are too surprised to react and then Erwin is kneeling beside him, still too stunned to think of anything beyond Levi’s condition. “Levi! Are you hurt?”  
  
Levi grimaces as he sits up, shaking his head as though irritated by the concern. Perhaps irritated in more general terms, and with an air of disbelief on top of that.

“Takes more than being dropped from a freakishly high altitude to injure me, Erwin,” he says, voice catching as his lungs refill. Little things pop in his spine when he stretches. “Next time you want to do that, try to make sure we’re in gear and at least three meters up, by the way.”  
  
“I’m very sorry.” He’s dazed by the mildness of that response. But Levi reaches for him first, arms outstretched and then around Erwin’s neck to be collected, and Erwin sighs, relieved. Levi is fine. They aren’t done yet. There is time to move past this.   
  
He doesn’t drop Levi a second time but does manage to nail the back of his own head on the desk while standing up, so  _both_  of them are dazed and recovering when he sets Levi on the desk, far less gracefully than he had planned and sprawling them down in a heap.   
  
“Heavy, aren’t you,” Levi remarks. Erwin has to tell himself not to bear down on the warmth of him when he shifts under Erwin getting comfortable. “Maybe I should be on top. You’ll have to invent a whole new court martial procedure to explain yourself to the brass if you squash me.”  
  
Erwin closes his eyes for a moment, distracted by whether that’s true or not, and if that makes it better or worse. But there doesn’t seem to be any real protest on Levi’s part; his legs open and he gives exploratory grinds against any part of Erwin in reach. Encouraging, to say the least.   
  
He leans over and strips more of Levi’s clothing, feeling his pulse give an eager lurch as more of Levi is revealed. The cloth from Levi’s throat gets tossed aside with a satisfying flick of his wrist, though he remains cautious of getting close enough for a kiss.

“You’re very,” Erwin says, feeling a tingle of warmth in his face. “Ah. Groomed.”  
  
“…am I.” Levi casts a wary look at Erwin’s crotch.   
  
“It’s appreciated,” he adds, in case that needs to be explained. “Thank you.” He tries to clear his head, not let himself get carried away—not hesitating, because this could be their only chance. But the roles they must fit into again when this is over,  _that_  gives Erwin pause. He doesn't want to spring on Levi all the things he really wants, or might eventually want. Erwin doesn't think he's going to get them so he doesn't ask. They have to be careful with one another.   
  
Maybe there will be other chances. For now, having Levi spread on his desk, open and waiting… yes, Erwin wants this, too.  
  
Touching parts of Levi for the first time—Erwin may actually go lightheaded before he remembers not to hold his breath. He doesn't even reach for Levi’s cock first, just smooths a hand up his thigh to his ribcage and feeling all the skin in between, the way muscles move for him and react to the touch. Tugging the last of Levi’s gear and clothes off pulls his hips down and suddenly it _works_ like that, the way they fit together, although the cord dangling from Erwin’s neck keeps hitting Levi right in the eye.   
  
Levi seizes it and reins Erwin in to fight with the clasp. “I hate this tiny string and buckle horseshit,” he says and whips the tie off, flinging it over his head to join the cravat on the floor. “You always look ridiculous. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it not crooked.”  
  
 _Kiss him_ , Erwin thinks, then  _No, can’t kiss him._  
  
He exhales and looks around the room.  
  
“Would you like something to drink? I have beer, or...”  
  
Levi tosses his head back and groans.

“Just don’t  _kiss_  me,” he says and clamps his ankles around Erwin’s waist. They fit even better like that, and then Levi grabs Erwin between the legs. “I don’t need silk and flower petals, Erwin. Just get over here and put your cock in me.”  
  
Erwin opens his mouth and then closes it. He’s suddenly harder than he has been all night and making up for lost time in a dizzying rush, thanks to Levi’s words and his grip. The evening once again looks like a good plan.  
  
The pause gives Levi a chance to unfasten Erwin’s pants. He looks in and raises an eyebrow at Erwin’s not-quite-full state of arousal. “Not too bad, I guess. With you dragging ass I was starting to wonder if I should brace for the worst.”   
  
He jerks the fabric down and something—snags.

On Erwin.

Every nerve ending in him lights up in misery. He’s doubled over, forehead on Levi’s shoulder before he can compose himself. If he says anything it comes out a wordless moan. When the white fog of pain starts to dissipate, he removes Levi’s hands and finishes undressing on his own.

Temporary strategic withdrawal, his mind supplies helpfully.   
  
There’s a huff behind him. “If this is some modesty or teasing thing, I don’t like it,” Levi says, no doubt having mistaken the flinch for curtailed excitement rather than agony. He reclines on his elbows and looks oddly young, eyes inquisitive and lips parted as he tries to peer around Erwin to watch.

“If I could—just a moment—” Erwin hesitates at the last second, aware the pain was less than forgiving on his erection, but after struggling with the straps, then buttons, losing patience with them, he eventually casts everything off and turns back to the desk.   
  
Levi looks him over. His eyes stray downward. His head tilts. “Huh.”  
  
The best Erwin can say is Levi’s expression falls shy of outright disappointment. “What is it?” he says.  
  
“Nothing,” Levi answers, to the tune of  _I guess._  
  
Erwin leans over the table. “Levi.”   
  
“I thought I’d be more turned on right now, if I’m honest.” He must be assessing on some inner gauge; his cock is reddened and thick, stretched out full against his stomach. Erwin all but licks his lips as he glances at it.   
  
“I brought some grease,” Levi supplies and flops back against the desk. “Should be in a pocket somewhere.” 

He untangles himself from Levi’s legs to search, brooding over the unflattering effect the cold air has on the still-damp parts of him. He’s in fine condition, physically—better with his maneuver gear than any soldier in the Garrison, and more experienced than anyone in the Police. He spends more time behind desks than he used to, but not that much more. He hadn’t thought it was noticeable.  
  
Levi waits for him with his heels perched on the edge of the table, lolling his knees back and forth like a cat flicking its tail. Erwin finds the small jar of grease and returns to move Levi’s legs aside. Bending over is starting a crick in his back so Erwin finds the chair with his heel and pulls it under him to sit down.   
  
“Erwin?” Levi hoists his head up to see where Erwin went but falls back moaning when Erwin finally touches his cock.   
  
It’s extremely gratifying to hear. Erwin shapes his hand over the length, indulging in the heat of him and the wetness at the tip that he spreads with his thumb. It makes both of them catch their breath. “Oh, you do know where it is,” Levi says thickly. Erwin doesn’t answer. This is something he _has_ been waiting for. He forgets the grease for a moment, content to hold Levi open and pamper them both, touching Levi until he’s quivering and beginning to thrust back. He follows the crease of Levi’s thigh down under his balls, other hand firm on the back of Levi’s leg, and then Levi shifts, knees straining inward and he holds back a sound almost like pain—  
  
No, that actually is pain. Erwin stops at once. “Are you sore here?”  
  
Levi grunts, “It’s fine,” but Erwin suspects otherwise. In full gear and on horse for the better part of a week, bouts of high-strain combat, and then landing hard on a cold stone floor. Except for the part about being dropped, Erwin has been there. He switches to softer touches, admonishing himself for not taking that into account from the start.   
  
“It’s  _fine_ —” Levi says, his first desperate note, reaching to pull Erwin back against him.   
  
He catches Levi’s hand, stopping it by locking their fingers. “We’ll take it slow,” he says to the scowl on Levi’s face, and then he opens the container.   
  
The thing it is impossible to overlook: Levi is  _clean_.   
  
He can’t know if Levi prepared himself specifically for this or it’s his own standard of personal hygiene, but whatever it is goes beyond groomed. Erwin doesn’t feel up to commenting on it a second time. Still, the contact is something—the first light touch there has Levi trying to rock down against Erwin’s finger, his eyes falling closed.  
  
As Erwin scoops out layer of lubricant over his fingers, the door opens.  
  
Hange walks in already talking, contemplating the papers in her hand and distracted enough to completely miss the two of them naked on the table. “Alright, so I have a handle on some of the numbers you… oh, oops. Maybe not.”

There is a flutter of papers and she kneels to collect the dropped sheets.

It isn’t anything like Levi’s loud, wild entrance. There had been knocks, a quick thoughtless one-two that read more like distraction than civility, but too fast to stop her from entering.

“Okay,” she says and starts to raise her head, “now I actually have a handle on the—”  
  
“The commander is _occupied_ ,” Levi snaps, the first to find his voice, his head upside down over the edge of the table.  
  
It breaks her from her daze. “Noted! The commander is occupied! Sorry!” she says, a stack of notes instantly shielding her face as she closes the door. Erwin thinks he hears shocked laughter on the other side as she walks away.  
  
Levi swears and covers his face. Erwin acknowledges in his own elevated heart rate as though from a distance, a trick he’s learned with much practice. He trusts Zoë. It’s a mercy it was her and not someone who would have reported them immediately. He imagines she will do her best to direct others away from the room for the rest of the night.  
  
Mostly he’s grateful he was sitting behind his desk for the interrupt.  
  
Erwin takes a deep breath and makes himself slow down before he re-parts Levi’s knees, starting with what he hopes are soothing touches over Levi’s strap markings before spreading on a sweep of lubricant. Now they just have to refocus.  
  
“I should have remembered she was coming,” Erwin says. Confiding the mistake, however trivial it is, feels as personal as taking off his clothes and maybe even more indulgent.  
  
“I should have locked the door,” Levi counters, jumping at a touch. The adrenaline seems to hit him in a different way: Erwin isn’t sure at first whether his attention has wandered or Levi does just pick up in the middle of two completely different conversations. “—I would be fine with just soap,” he says, hands falling from his face to hang over the front of the desk. “I know we’re limited when we’re on patrol. I bet it’d be the best damn report they’d ever read, the sick bastards sitting around a table getting hard reading your report. How detailed would you have to be?”  
  
Erwin raises his head. “What?”  
  
“If you had to submit paperwork about this,” Levi says, attention apparently more on being discovered than being fingered. His voice goes unfocused when Erwin slicks more grease against him. Levi’s toes curl. His knees clamp around Erwin’s upper arms. “What would you say? Attempted,  _ah_ … fraternization and squashing of a subordinate?”   
  
The ‘attempted’ stings worse than the smell of Levi’s soap.  
  
“Only what they had to know,” Erwin says. That’s what he usually writes. He takes another slow inhale. “Try to relax. Bear down a little.”  
  
“I am relaxed.” Levi stares at the ceiling. “Most of the Sina higher-ups are miserable assholes. They’d probably order a clarification statement if they didn’t get off on the first report.”  
  
He might be correct. “Levi…” Erwin stares down at where he’s trying to work Levi open. Levi is beautiful everywhere, well-proportioned and clean and Erwin wants to be inside him desperately. But at this point he would consider calling a victory if he could get so much as a fingernail in.   
  
“Does this still hurt?” he says.  
  
There’s a husky scoff, like Levi is trying to seduce and humor a doctor at the same time. “No, it doesn’t hurt.”  
  
Erwin is inclined to believe him this time. His eyes fall on Levi’s cock. Well, there are other ways to get someone to relax, and barring that at least to see them content. He swallows and pushes up from his chair. Something else occurs to him. “Levi, are you nervous?”  
  
Levi’s head whips off the table. “What?” He sits up at the same time Erwin lowers his head, and somewhere in the middle one of Levi’s roving knees swings around and cracks Erwin in the nose. “What are you doing?” Levi says, holding Erwin’s. “I’m not nervous, I’m  _horny_. Were you trying to suck my dick?” Erwin can’t decide if it’s amazement or horror in his voice. Then, sounding as tired as Erwin feels, Levi says, “Is your nose is broken?”   
  
The knee didn’t connect with much force. Milder than bumps in some training exercises, no blood or broken cartilage. But the discomfort is amplified in context. Erwin can already feel the swelling.   
  
It would have tasted like the soap, he thinks to try and cover his disappointment. His mouth is watering as much as his eyes.  
  
He says, “I won’t be breathing out of my nose in the next few hours.”  
  
“It sounds like you have a head cold,” Levi says with a groan. “Not a turn-on. Sorry.”   
  
Erwin almost smiles. “Sorry for your preferences, or for kneeing your commander in the face?”  
  
“For kneeing my commander in the face,” Levi says after moment, strangely well-mannered. He reaches for the hand of Erwin’s still on his leg, as though unsure if he should. If Erwin wants him to.

It makes Erwin wish they still had kissing to fall back on.   
  
He braces himself over the desk, breathing hard—less from arousal than he would like. He doesn’t have it in him to deny when a plan has failed, particularly in the face of worsening conditions.   
  
“This isn’t going to work,” he says.  
  
Levi stops moving. He looks up and Erwin recognizes the facial expression. Not often, but it’s one he’s seen on the field when Levi doesn’t agree with a call—narrowed eyes seeking reasons in Erwin’s face, and so Erwin knows the moment Levi manages to accept it, when his jaw sets and he begins to nod.  
  
Erwin stops him by touching his side. “Here,” he says. “We can change positions.”  
  
Resolve gives way to a spark of fervor, a kind of vigorous fleeting hope before Levi is in control of himself again. Seeing it makes up for the pain in Erwin’s nose. It may be the nicest thing he’s seen in days. Before Erwin can help, Levi jumps to his feet. Less chance of being dropped, probably.   
  
The desk seems smaller when Erwin backs against it. He looks at it over his shoulder, and Levi says the exact phrase Erwin has been turning over in his head for the past five minutes: “There’s no way you’re fitting.”  
  
“You may be right.” Erwin searches the room for the areas safest from catastrophe. “I suggest the floor,” he says at last, seizing their discarded cloaks and tossing them on the flagstones in front of the desk.  
  
Levi makes a face but doesn’t argue, his eyebrows twitching in a deepening frown. He stands rubbing warmth into his arms as Erwin arranges himself on the floor. The cloaks are made to keep the cold at bay, so that isn’t so bad. The problem is that not all of Erwin fits on the cloaks. His shoulders and limbs feel like they’re on ice.   
  
“So are you clean or am I gonna get down there and find put you’re full of shit?” Levi says.  
  
Erwin looks up, speechless for the second time that night.   
  
In the silence, Levi joins him on the floor. He drops between Erwin’s legs and prowls up his body on hands and knees, pressing Erwin’s back to the floor with proximity and an intent gaze. Perhaps it was rhetorical, Erwin thinks. Or even less likely, a joke. He suspects his luck won’t hold for that.  
  
Then Levi squeezes his cock—the touch slippery and good, fingers already slicked—and Erwin realizes that, despite everything, he might actually get what he wants tonight.  
  
He is still grasping at replies when a finger finally, finally pushes in, and that gives Erwin his second wind. This can  _work._    
  
Levi watches his face, briefly surveying the rest of him. “Not too bad,” he says, repeating his earlier sentiment but this time it sends an excited shiver down Erwin’s spine to hear it. Shudders of a different sort crawl up his skin from his extremities; he tries not to hiss as more of him relaxes onto icy stone.

The finger in him teases deeper. Knowing it’s Levi is better than the actual finger, at first. It only feels like a knuckle or two, nowhere near enough, as though Levi is grudgingly following preconceived regulations until the groundwork is out of the way. Then he angles differently, stroking Erwin open with his other hand, and it feels deep and good almost; Erwin keens pushing down on the finger, chasing the feathery tendrils of _please, yes, more_  just beyond what he needs. “There,” he gasps when Levi hits it again. “Like that.”  
  
“Here?” Levi says and somehow misses it completely.  
  
Erwin is close to breaking his own rules and asking Levi to forget everything and just fuck him when all movement  _stops._ He groans and rubs a hand over his eyes. “Levi?”

“I know you’re tired,” Levi says, “but there’s no way this is doing anything for you.” He gestures to Erwin’s flagging erection.   
  
Erwin pushes up on his elbows. He finds the sight of himself unfathomable at first. But at this point Levi is the only thing keeping him from going soft entirely.   
  
“I almost thought you’d have given an order by now,” Levi says after a pause. Erwin grasps at the cue, if it is a cue. More, he almost says without thinking. The heat they had kindled has mostly faded, stolen by the chill and uncomfortable floor and Erwin’s throbbing nose and simple fatigue.

But  _more_ —that could be all they need for this to be over with. “Try another finger,” Erwin says.  
  
Levi’s expression doesn’t change. “I did.”  
  
That is when they are interrupted by another knock on the door.  
  
Erwin’s field command tone surges out of him before he can stop it. “ _Out,_ ” he says, and it does the job. The door slams closed without question. Even Levi is affected—pushing up on his toes and covering Erwin in a protective crouch. His hand moves as though reaching for an absent holster. 

If there had been any hope for them, that abrupt change in mood kills it stone dead. Their eyes meet. It’s clear at a glance neither of them is up for complicated maneuverings anymore. Erwin sits up, sore and cold, expecting Levi himself to get up and make ready to leave. To his surprise, Levi does not.   
  
Levi sets his jaw. The determination is back on his face.

Erwin marvels, quietly —that Levi has not left, that he is still there with Erwin on the floor fighting to make it work. They should have stopped minutes ago but somehow he can’t think ill of them for it. They aren’t the kind of men who give up easily.  
  
But continuing would actually be ridiculous now. It’s a good thing Erwin has practice making those calls.

When Levi reaches for them Erwin stops his hand. Levi sighs through his nose, knowing without being told, and they collapse back on the cloaks. Getting up is out of the question. “Don’t bother.” Levi shakes his head when Erwin offers to at least finish  _Levi_  before he leaves. “I’d just end up coming in your eye or something.”   
  
He takes his hand from under Erwin’s to wipe his face, but there is a general impression of intentional distance, of pulling away. “Perfect end to my day,” he says. “All you want is one less thing to think about next time your commander has a narrow escape and this is what happens.”  
  
Erwin looks at him. He thinks of Levi’s abrupt, frantic interest to have him as soon as possible. He had not put it in the context after a day of mixed reports over whether Erwin had lived or not, a day of fresh reminders that they might only have one chance.   
  
He sits up with a heavy sigh. He usually has a good head for plans. Usually. But he always owns his mistakes.   
  
“I want to apologize, Levi. No, listen,” he says when Levi makes like he wants to object. “That isn’t how I intended—” Erwin runs a hand through his hair, flattening it back in place as he stalls. “It isn’t at all how I wanted this to happen,” he says.  
  
After a silence, Levi sits up too. He looks at Erwin, a long flat stare that could mean anything. But Erwin has said what he needed to say.

His mouth quirks remembering something Levi said in the midst of his edgy chatter. “You would be fine if I only used soap?” he says.  
  
Levi’s voice is almost quiet. “You wanted this?”  
  
A brief silence; they share searching glances, belated understanding. The final cost of rushing hits Erwin all at once. He covers his face with his hand. How much grief could they have avoided if they had known a little more? He should have listened to his instincts to not let them rush. He should have made sure they understood each other.  
  
Levi moves first. He presses his hand to Erwin’s chest and helps himself to his feet. “Next time will be better,” he says. His touch lingers on Erwin’s skin.  
  
 _Next time_. Erwin turns his face up, surprised. He hears the question in it again, the same chance to disagree as when Levi first stormed the office.   
  
And he does stop Levi—touching his arm and pulling him back. They hesitate before bringing their lips together, remembering in time why they shouldn’t. Instead Erwin takes Levi’s chin and kisses his jaw, then his temple along his hairline, the side of his neck.   
  
With his swollen nose, he couldn’t smell Levi’s soap if he wanted to.   
  
“Next time will be better,” he agrees. 


End file.
